


Till it Breaks

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x alzheimers!oikawa tooru]In sickness and in health; ‘till death do us part...Or ‘till his mind broke, leaving you behind with nothing but a shattered heart when he asked quietly, “who are you?”





	1. [one]

**Author's Note:**

> * The reader is meant to have no dialogue during the story to illustrate the theme of being trapped in one's mind.

* * *

 

You always thought that he’d die by killing himself.

That sounded morbid and cruel, you knew. God, you knew. But that was what you had honestly thought. Oikawa Tooru was not a man to be brought down by anything until he said so. Swerving cars and crack snorting killers wouldn’t dare to touch somebody like him. You’d thought that he was a winner, even when he had lost, because Tooru was Tooru. He was a superstar. And, it wasn’t as if death was in the nearby vicinity. He was a star athlete, for god’s sake—he did everything right.

So why was he sick?

And it wasn’t even one of the better ones. Cancer? He could’ve doped up on morphine and said goodbye with a faraway smile on his face. Sudden brain aneurysm? He would’ve been gone too soon, but at least he wouldn’t have suffered. You wouldn’t be suffering.

Early Onset Alzheimer’s.

Nobody in his family had it. Nobody in his life realized that he would be the first. Maybe it was all the concussions in his youth, the doctor had tried to explain, but there was no explanation for stone cold cruelty. It just happened, and he wasn’t even dead to justify the pain.

The nurse called your name, startling you out of the reverie you’d found yourself in since it began.

“Mrs. Oikawa? Your husband is ready to check out.”

She didn’t seem to realize that your husband no longer saw himself as your husband. Things had gotten warped. They’d gone… off. Sometimes he saw you as his sister, his mother, his doctor—but never were you _you_. It was as if he’d taken your name with him into his plunging depths of broken mindedness, and you were left naked and alone. What did you have when you no longer had the thing that made you _you_? You had lost naivety in your childhood, and with adulthood came grim acceptance. You learned to stop hoping long ago.

In the waiting lobby and visiting room, things had been decorated up all cheerily and kind, with warm flowers and soft brown leather to soothe the mind. One painting in particular always caught your eye. It was of a wide-open plain, soft ripples of foxtail like that of the ocean’s matte surface. A woman stood alone in the centre. It was not the brush stroke or evident skill that had your heart sinking whenever you saw it. It was that woman’s face; an open one of melancholy and wry sentiment as she looked off into the distance of that halcyon field. And if you looked closer still you’d see the flowering hemlock at her feet, lapping her ankles softly as she smiled at you with quiet agony. Her sadness was out of place in the happy, gilded tones of the painting. In a sense, you wondered if that was how he saw you now—the outsider in his world. The pure white flower of the poisonous plant.

Still, you steeled your jaw and got up to face him. In sickness and in health; ‘till death do us part.

He’d cried during his vows.

The nurse led you to his room. Most of the other patients—or, as you were beginning to see them as, inmates—were older and shrivelled shells. An old woman sat rocking in a chair, sobbing silently. Another stared blankly at the wall. You couldn’t help but shiver, averting your gaze almost guiltily. Tooru was only 35. He didn't belong here. This disease didn’t belong in your lives.

But like that woman’s smile, it was present, and ever strikingly dark against the sun.

Nearing his room, you heard him talking. When it’d just been diagnosed, you had thought it would be okay, because he could at least talk to you—if it had been something like Huntington’s, it would have been worse, right? But it was never okay. It was just slightly less horrid.

“So, what… you wouldn’t date guys like me?”

You stopped outside the bedroom, foot in the doorway.

“Oh, Mr. Oikawa. You’re married, remember?”

“That’s just a hard-to-get ploy, isn’t it? Very sneaky, lying to a sick guy like me.”

The nurse in front of you cast you a panicked gaze. Obviously, she was too young to be letting the patients get to her like this. You smiled dryly to reassure her, your lips cracking like old tree bark. Of course, this had already happened before. He was a flirt. It was his nature. When his own tree of life had been stripped of the memories, he just went back to being who he was. You couldn’t blame him, but the ring on your left hand still felt cold.

Politely, you knocked, stepping in. You stayed a respectful distance away. Through the hard way, you had learnt that Tooru might sometimes lash out at you if you got too close. He still hadn’t recognized you, but on the worse days he feared you, and that was worst of all. The gap between you and him felt like it was deep and hopeless. The floor was lava all over again and you had nobody holding their hand out for you to grab on when you got to the other side.

The nurse smiled at you brightly, but you’d gotten good at reading their faces, and you could see the guilt clouding her pitiful gaze.

“Mrs. Oikawa!” she said cheerily, emphasizing the name you’d been given around these places. Nobody seemed to recognize your first name any longer, hoping that repetition might get Tooru to remember you. It didn’t work, but you swallowed the discomfort. “Here to pick Mr. Oikawa up?”

You nodded. Tooru ignored you loudly, resting his hands behind his head as he continued to smile at the other nurse.

“She a friend of yours?” he asked the nurse in that jaunty tone. With his head turned away from you, you had the chance to look at him without fear of being snapped at. Nothing seemed unordinary. He had the same jawline and the same, warm brown eyes framed by the same chestnut hair. Those eyes had been filled with such adoration. Only, he wasn’t looking at you, and he was looking at her the way he’d used to look at you.

“I hope you spend lots of good quality time with your wife,” the nurse replied expertly, dodging his question. She patted him once on the knee before quickly scurrying away into retreat. She passed by you, a soft whisper of apology on her strawberry scented breath as she left the room. It was just you and he, now. A clock ticked. Suddenly, you felt panicked, the way a wife should never feel about their husband.

The room wasn’t much like a hospital room. It had large open windows (with locked nets, of course, in case the dementia led him to believe the window was his escape) and homey décor. He had a bed with the same colour sheets you and he had shared at home, and you noticed a postcard tacked up on the wall, looking mildly out of place with all the other furniture pieces. With a cold shock, you realized that it was from the engagement shoot.

He seemed to notice you, finally, and glanced to the postcard.

“Oh, yeah! My friend Iwaizumi gave that to me. It’s nice.”

You pressed your lips together tightly. He remembered Iwaizumi, but not the one he was cradling in that postcard.

“So, you’re the one taking me out for a couple of days? I guess I’m lucky.” Seeming to feel like he was obligated to keep conversation running, he cocked his head a touch to the left and grinned charmingly at you. You stared back, taken off guard by the direct question. You shouldn’t have been surprised at all—he was the one you had married all those years ago—but you’d gotten so used to being lonely that it was strange at all to hear him. His eyes met yours with a curious glint and you swallowed hard to keep yourself from crying. Still, you didn’t trust yourself to speak and nodded once again.

“I see. Y’know, this place is nice and all, but I’d like to go home.”

Did he even know where home was?

Despite the disease, he’d retained that acute attentiveness and noticed the skepticism on your face.

“Yeah. I don’t think you know it, but I guess you would since you’re one of my friends. Right? Am I getting that right? Sorry, my memory’s been pretty bad lately.” He laughed sheepishly and you offered a pinched smile in return. You knew very well about his lacking memory.

“It’s a nice place. It’s small, but it’s really nice. I can’t wait to be back. But what am I saying… you’ve probably been over for drinks or something…”

You wanted to ask him whom he lived there with. You wanted to prompt him; confront him. But he was already speaking again before you could interject your questions, and you lost footing of your nerve.

“Well, we should get going, right? It’ll be nice to see some new sights that aren’t a part of this place.” He got out of his chair and collected a bag by his bedside. You waited patiently, staring down at your feet as if with shame. The house—yours and his house—was now only _his_ house to him. You had a sick thought in the back of your mind that he might not even recognize it. The lawn had gotten a bit overrun, since he’d been gone and you were put out of commission. Iwaizumi came by to help every so now and then, but he lived in a different city, and his visits were far too low to compensate for the amount of help you needed. The hydrangeas were eating up the front side of the house, the windows were dirty, and you knew that it looked very different than it had when you’d first moved in. You could only hope that he wouldn’t accuse you of being a liar—again.

The entire point of the excursion was for you to let him revisit landmarks in his life, to hopefully heal him, and restore the years he’d seemed to had lost. He was sometimes partially lucid, but ever since it had worsened, he’d only ever float between his memories from his twenties or late teens. You didn’t seem to surface in his thoughts at all. The doctors all said different things, but it boiled down to them scratching their heads and extending a sweaty hand in apology. They didn’t know why he didn’t know you. It was an easy explanation; he just didn’t.

“Do you like this or something?”

You looked over at him as he paused, standing next to the postcard. You’d been staring at it too hard. He gave you a friendly smile and pulled the tack off. With muted horror, you watched as he extended it to you.

“I don’t need it,” he said simply. “So you can have it if you’d like. My gift to you as thanks.”

Out of instinct, you took it, the thin paper feeling heavy as he took his hands away and turned. You looked down at the photo. Your smile was radiant, your foot kicked up into the air as he held you up in his arms, grinning at the camera slyly as if to brag. _This one is mine._

Quickly, you shoved it back out to him, turning the photo away from you and shaking your head as if repulsed. He looked mildly surprised but did not reach to take it back.

“What is it? You look like you’re in pain.”

You were, but in a totally different, worse pain than you could’ve felt on your body.

“Oh, is it your baby? Do you need me to call the nurse?”

The nervous concern in his voice was the last straw. Tooru had always made sure to address the swell in your belly with nothing but cheer, having heard from his older sister that negativity would reach through and affect the baby before it could be born. He’d doted on it. He’d read it stories, told it bad jokes, and forced you to sit through full-length documentaries so that the baby might absorb some level of ingenuity before it took its first breath.

He had been… Tooru. Confused, forgetful Tooru, but Tooru all the same.

This was not him.

You shoved the postcard into his chest, giving him no time to catch it as it fluttered to the floor. He watched after you as you stumbled out of the room, a choked sob following after like a ghostly trail. He blinked slowly and then crouched, picking up the postcard. It was a blank one, like an extra from a stack of copies, and he turned it over and over into his hands. The man and the woman both looked strikingly familiar. Maybe they were close friends. Perhaps you had had a bad falling out with these people?

The truth did lie in a falling out, but the only fall was the fallacy that things were going to turn out okay when it was clear that Oikawa Tooru had committed a suicide without his own accord.


	2. [two]

“Hm. I like this song.”

It was startling to hear him speak. After you’d gotten yourself back together, things were awkward—as they’d be, understandably, after somebody runs off crying. He’d offered to drive, but you didn’t know if you could trust that he remembered how. He’d always used to drive before. He absolutely loved it. Gunning the gas was his favourite thing to do, and the fool even made spluttering racing noises as the both of you rode along. But ever since the pregnancy, he’d driven well. He’d protected you. Now you were the one to drive him. 

Every time you felt that your roles had been reversed, you wondered what it’d be like if you were the one sick, and he were the one watching you forget him more and more, day by day. Were you so cruel as to wish that upon him? Maybe it would’ve eased your pain, but you couldn’t wish this heartbreak onto anybody, not even your most hated enemies. 

You made a small noise of acknowledgement. The song’s title scrolled across the car’s mini screen and you pursed your lips, wondering if he would remember. It was the song that had played during your wedding, the ‘first dance’ song the both of you had laboured over for weeks. You would never forget the way your white dress had swirled as the both of you clutched hands, shoes clacking together on the floor in a silent hall, eyes trained on nothing but each other. Each lyric had been engrained onto the folds of your brain; each word; each beat. 

“I wonder who sang it?” he mused, his head turning back out the window.

You swallowed back heavy tears.

Your first stop wasn’t home, although you were so exhausted that you wanted nothing more than to lie down and cry. The road into the airport was congested, as it always was, but you managed to squeeze your way into a spot by the loading docks. He was already standing there waiting, headphones plugged into a phone. The familiar man always looked so moody, but you couldn’t help the great tide of relief that came over you when you saw his sullen expression. Tooru perked up and rolled down the window, thrusting a hand out to wave for his attention.

“Hajime! Damn, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes flicked behind Tooru to you, and you merely grimaced and shook your head. Iwaizumi nodded once with understanding, and then smiled broadly, the edges of his eyes not quite crinkling like they would’ve if the grin had been real. He clasped Tooru’s hand through the window.

“Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

The only reason Iwaizumi had come over was because you’d asked. You’d meekly asked Iwaizumi to stay over at the house after finalizing Tooru’s temporary release. You'd felt so cowardly about it, and you had temporized doing so for as long as you could, but there was no dodging the reality that you were afraid of your own husband. He’d already snapped once, and you didn’t think you could defend two people if it happened once more. Chills rose goosebumps on your skin as you remembered, knowing full well that Tooru didn’t.

Iwaizumi, ever kind, had agreed immediately and taken the next flight. You knew he was busy with his own family and practice, but he’d come anyways, now loading his stuff into the trunk. You looked up in the mirror as he slid into the back seat, sighing exhaustedly in time with the door slamming shut. You asked if his flight was well and he shrugged.

“Good enough. Some brat starting crying like six times, but I finally managed to get some of the sleep back that I lost ever since baby number three.”

“Where did you say you lived again?” Tooru asked, as you began to drive back onto the road.

“Guess,” Iwaizumi prompted, arms crossed. You flinched at the cold deliverance of the single word. You wanted to turn around and plead that he play it easy, but merging was difficult and demanded your full concentration, so you stiffly waited for the answer. Sweat broke out on your brow.

“Um… you always said that you wanted to live somewhere with snow.” Oikawa played with the end of his hair as he thought about it, and then snapped his fingers. “Sapporo, right?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied, sounding too surprised to pass off as casual. “That’s… right.”

How did he not know your _wedding_ song, but he knew that his old friend liked cool weather? How could he have traded out such precious memories for a trivial passing remembrance? He’d thrown out diamonds for coal. He’d thrown you out for this.

Your fingers gripped the steering wheel but you merely kept your eyes on the road, nudging the acceleration. 

“So,” Iwaizumi said abruptly, sensing the settling of a tension-filled silence. “How are things?”

Tooru was silent before you cleared your throat, shooting him an expectant glance. He laughed amiably, in a soft way that made your heart lurch with nostalgia.

“Sorry, didn’t know who you were talking to. Things are okay. My memory’s been kind of bad, lately. Can you imagine? I don’t even think I could write a test and pass it properly anymore.”

“So? You already graduated.”

You flinched again. Iwaizumi was not helping. If he kept up like this, would Tooru break again? His furious expression made you flinch, and you were thankful to have the road to concentrate on to block out the memories. You shot a hasty look to the man on your left, but he merely looked surprised, before laughing again.

“Yeah, I know. But med school was so brutal that it haunts me to this day. How’s the practice going? You refused to get married until after you graduated law school, so I’m surprised you even have a wife that’ll stick with you.”

So he remembered Iwaizumi’s wedding, but not yours. Tooru had been Iwaizumi’s best man, and vice versa, but Tooru and yours’ wedding had come first since Iwaizumi graduated years after graduating high school. It was as if Tooru were just erasing _you_ from his memory and nothing else. As if you were the thing he agreed to sacrifice… a thing that was so utterly unimportant that he chose you to get rid of. 

The acceptance of it was too cruel. 

You breathed a shaky sigh, hoping that Iwaizumi would get the hint and move onto safer topics. Instead, he ignored Tooru’s question about his own career entirely and asked bluntly,

“How’s the marriage?”

“…what marriage?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt it freeze in your chest.

“Oh!” Tooru said, snapping his fingers. You jumped. For a second, you foolishly hoped, but then—

“Did Makki and Matsukawa tie the knot or something?” He turned to you apologetically. “They’re old friends from high school. I don’t think you’d know them.”

Silence.

“…um, the office is getting off of its feet. It’s busy as hell, but at least it’s going. I actually have Kyoutani interning for me. Remember him?” You heard Iwaizumi suddenly switch topics gracelessly, and although you were glad for it, it did nothing to ease the pain that had settled in your breast.

“I remember!” Tooru exclaimed with a hearty smile, as if to mock you.

\---

“I forgot why I got such a small place…”

Tooru stretched as he looked onto the house. It was a small bungalow, with one floor, three bedrooms, and one bathroom. The building was old but had been dressed up by renovation. White and blue tiling made the quaint house look presentable, if not for the overrun lawn and gigantic blue hydrangea bush. The reason you and he had bought this tiny house was because his med school bills had piled up, so the both of you settled for something humble. Still, he’d gotten attached to it, despite his meandering complaints. The bay window jutted out, and inside you could see In-chan barking, yapping wildly as the dog recognized the return of his owner. You didn’t know why Tooru had had the idiotic thought to name his dog ‘Dog’, but they loved each other. During some lonely nights, In-chan had been Tooru’s replacement, lapping the wet tears off your nose. Tooru looked to you and grinned.

“D’you mind giving me the keys? I ought to let In-chan out. He’ll pee all over the floor if he doesn’t get to go outside.”

Obligingly, you tossed him your keys— _his_ keys, in his head—and watched as the tall man walked away after catching them with ease. In-chan was barrelling him down before the door was even half open, and you watched from afar with bittersweet sentimentality as Tooru laughed, letting In-chan deposit a barrage of sloppy kisses on his face. 

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asked at your side in a low voice. You blinked and sighed, looking down to realize that you’d placed both of your hands under your belly, as if to make up for the fact that Tooru might not ever do so again.

With a slight shrug, you walked forwards tentatively, ignoring Tooru’s excited praise of the dog and not you.

\---

You hadn’t bothered to take down any of the pictures. It was too hard in your gigantic, swollen state, and if seeing a picture of you and he together could trigger memories, you wanted to take the chance. People had told you to give up hope, and although you said you had, you still didn’t want to miss an opportunity. You didn’t think you could. You were always sitting, waiting; wishing. You blew on dandelions to wish for his health. At 11:11, you wished. Did that make you childish? Perhaps, but at this point, you would’ve settled for witchcraft to bring Tooru back to his original state.

He didn’t seem to notice the photos of you together at all, dropping his duffel bag in the entryway and throwing aside a chew-toy for In-chan. The dog’s nails skittered against hardwood and he looked back to you, still smiling happily.

“It’s late. You should probably get to bed, since you’ve been driving all day. I’ll let you have the master room. After all, you’ve got two with you!”

You nodded, giving him a small, falsified smile to show your ‘gratitude’ of being offered a room that belonged to you in the first place. He walked off into one of the first guest rooms before poking his head back out. 

“See you tomorrow morning. Night!”

“Night,” Iwaizumi replied for you, as you merely averted your gaze. The door shut and you let out the shaky gasp of air you’d been holding in all day, deflating. You leant forwards onto the counter, breathing hard, feeling the weight of the future digging into your shoulders. It wasn’t going to happen. Things would never be okay again. 

Iwaizumi put a heavy hand on your shoulder. “…I’m really sorry, [Name].”

You shook your head sharply. Quickly, as not to forget the Japanese customs you’d been raised with, you pulled away from him and moved to the kitchen to make tea. In actuality, you did not want Iwaizumi to see you cry. He didn’t follow, but instead moved to the living room slowly, familiar with the house that he’d been invited to so often. 

“Can I borrow your laptop?” he called out abruptly. You wondered what he needed with it, but agreed. You heard him typing something as you watched the water in the kettle, your eyes glazed over. You didn’t know what you had expected this morning. You’d wanted Tooru to magically snap back into it; to suddenly be healthy again. You wanted him to apologize to you for all he’d put you through, even though it wasn’t his fault… but you just wanted _something_. Anything at all to let you know that there was a reason to hold faith. Anything at all that could get you to stop closing your eyes at 11:11; anything at all to keep you from reaching out to pick dandelions as you went out. Anything.

But you got nothing. 

Your eyes skittered to the knife block, each handle easily accessible… 

Faith. What was it anymore besides a damned word? 

The kettle clicked, steam roiling out. You rubbed your eyes with a sigh. Carefully, you poured hot water into the two mugs of green tea, placing them onto a tray before making your way to the living room. You’d kept the house fairly clean, worried that messiness might set Tooru off. The doctors at the clinic had given you a list of triggers to watch out for, and you followed them to a T, already understanding what could go wrong if things went wrong. 

Iwaizumi had balanced your laptop on the coffee table, perking up when you entered. He accepted the tea with a ‘thanks’ and hit enter, sipping at it as he searched something up. You waited patiently, assuming that he was looking for something to show you. Blue light lit up his face, which was already looking old. You attributed the new lines to the opening of his private law firm and his newborn son. Three boys. Your heart warmed at the memory of your godchild’s smiling face, before your face fell when you wondered if Tooru would remember _his_ godchildren. If he’d remember his _own_ child. If he could never remember you, you at least hoped that he could remember his daughter.

Finally, Iwaizumi spun the laptop to face you, and you leant forwards to read.

**Japanese Alzheimer’s Experimental Drug Trial**

Your breath caught in your throat and you shot a panicked look to Iwaizumi. Recognizing your expression, your old friend took your mug from you, lowering it onto the tray. He grasped your wrist to steady you.

“They’re opening applications again. It’s at the general hospital here, and they’re looking for young, healthy patients that have Alzheimer’s. Oikawa would probably get in. It has pretty good records so far, [Name]. One of my partners has her grandfather in the program, and he’s been getting better. He was even lucid, apparently.”

Despite his excited tone, you felt your heart sinking. The warm tea turned into acid in your stomach. You pulled the laptop towards you and scrolled down, your eyes catching on the fine print as if it had been magnified.

**documented side effects include necrosis of the brain tissue, seizures, semilunar valve failure in the heart, tumours […] one in twenty patients undergo rapid decline in health and have had to be removed from the program**

“I know that looks bad, but don’t you want to take the chance?” Iwaizumi asked, suddenly slamming the laptop lid down before you could read further. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring down at your knees. A chance that Tooru could get better… a chance that he could look at you and know who you were….

A chance that he might die altogether.

“I can’t imagine how much it must hurt, him not being able to recognize you. If that happened with my wife… look, I know he still loves you, deep down. He’s a fighter. He’s a stubborn idiot, remember? He’s the same person you fell in love with. He still loves you. We just need to give him some help.”

Your heart lurched. You didn’t think you could even begin to _share_ how much it hurt. Maybe he did still love you, but it felt like he had stopped entirely. You almost wished that the both of you had fought earlier, enough so that you and he broke apart and went separate ways before you could fall for him so hard. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much. But you knew you were lying to yourself. The pain of him not loving you would never compare to the pain of you not loving him.

“Consider it,” Iwaizumi murmured as you sat silently. “I went to school with the legal advisor attached to the trial, so if you say the word, I’ll do my best to get him in. I promise.” He patted you on the leg and stood, making his way to the other guest bedroom before pausing. He looked back. 

“But I won’t do anything if you don’t tell me to. You should make the decision with your girl in mind. And… you should probably talk about it with him.”

You heard the familiar skittering of In-chan coming up to you after Iwaizumi closed the door, finally leaving you alone. The toy Tooru had thrown for him dropped to the floor. The dog whined when he saw your expression, lapping your chin tentatively. The hot tears welled in your eyes, tracing ugly patterns down your cheeks, as you grinned with self-deprecation.

Faith… what could you even hope for, now? Because in your hideous, disgusting heart, you had hoped that maybe he’d die and be rid of this pain once and for all. That _you’d_ be done with it.

Faith… in which path?


	3. [three]

“If you’re nauseous, you might have food poisoning. Or you could have CVS—”

“I don’t have CVS,” you snarled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Tooru crossed his broad arms in the doorway, his glasses reflecting the cool gleam of dawn’s light. The dark frames were fake; he wore them around at work to look more ‘doctory’, hurt by the fact that people kept laughing him off due to his good looks. Still, with or without the glasses, he was the hospital’s top orthopaedic surgeon. He propped them up as he cocked his head, a small frown tugging at the corner of your husband’s lips.

“Well if you’d just let me examine you—” he began passive-aggressively, his tone ticking you off.

“I studied medicine too!” you snapped, peeved that he might’ve thought he was better than you, even if he probably was. You scoffed, staring down into the pearly white toilet bowl, watching it swirl in your muddled vision. You closed your eyes, touching your sweaty face down onto your forearm. Your voice echoed back from the toilet like a backwards megaphone. “I can assure you, I don’t have whatever exotic parasite you’re thinking of. This isn’t a crappy medical drama.”

“I was thinking a _virus_ , actually, but fine.” He sighed before shuffling into the washroom with you, wetting a towel with cold water at the sink and wiping your chin for you. His touch was gentle. He sat down heavily on the edge of the tub, propping his head up with his elbows resting on his knees. His hand came forwards, tucking your hair out of the danger zone. The both of you waited in silence as your body decided if it was done blowing chunks or not.

“If me kissing you in the morning makes you this sick, we probably shouldn’t have gotten married,” he mused, dryly.

“Yeah. Waking up and seeing your face was just too much,” you retorted scathingly. The feeling of your brain taking a ride on an imaginary centrifuge was making you irritable. Tooru laughed gently with amusement, his cool hand reaching out to raise your chin as you hovered over the toilet, attempting to will the waves of vertigo away. His large brown eyes were soft, and you let his hands slide under your chin wordlessly, until you felt him prodding your lymph nodes. With a scowl, you slapped him away, his hand hovering in the air.

“I told you already! I don’t have a damn disease!”

“Would you just let me look at you?!” he snapped back, angrily, to your surprise. “If you’re sick, it’s my job to take care of you. I know you’re strong, but I’m fucking here for you. Remember that?”

“Tooru…?” you breathed, your remorse already lining the syllables of his name. You lowered your gaze a bit shamefully and he let out a long sigh, his hands coming back to cradle your head more delicately. His long, sports weathered fingers slid through your hair and he brought you up to his chest.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just worried.”

“No,” you sighed, hearing his heartbeat rush in your ear rhythmically. “It’s my bad. But I’m _really_ telling you… I don’t have a disease.”

“You… sound like you already have a diagnosis.” Tooru pulled you away with a suspicious look. “What is it?”

“Uh…” You felt yourself fidgeting under his harsh, analytical gaze, your gaze averting the pressure of his.

“[Name],” he said, a warning edge to his voice. “However bad it is… I’ll still be with you. You know that.”

“You promise, right?” you asked nervously, suddenly feeling sick all over again. A sweat broke out over your brow. Still, he nodded firmly, his hands dropping from your face to grip yours. The cool metal of his ring made a tiny click with yours as his larger hands passed over your palms.

“I promise.”

“Well… okay.” You took a deep breath to steady your nerves. “Remember how I said I had that extra night shift about a week ago? On Friday night?”

“Yeah… but what does that have to do with now?” he asked, visibly confused. You shifted on the tiles of the bathroom floor uncomfortably.

“I… I didn’t have a shift. I actually went to see Jin after you went home.”

“Jin, like, our friend the _ob/gyn_ Jin?” he pressed, sounding bewildered. “What were you doing all the way in peds?”

“Uh… like I said, I don’t have a disease.” You swallowed hard. “But I am… um… you know what?” Flustered, you tried to pull away, but his hands kept you in place. You talked so quickly that your words blended over each other meaninglessly. “Look, I get if we need to think about getting rid of it, since we have student loans and the mortgage and the car and all the other things to deal with, and it’s not too late yet—”

“What, are you saying that you’re _pregnant_?!” he blurted out, startling you so much that you flinched, gripping his hands. They were clutched tightly around yours, his eyes shining with bright surprise, as if faraway stars had lit up deep inside.

“Wh—you didn’t figure that out yet?! What kind of a doctor are you?”

He ignored the passing insult and pulled you up and in, his arms wrapping around you. Your feet almost dangled off the ground with the ferocity with which he hugged you, and suddenly, all the unease you’d felt since hearing the news dissipated like fog out of the forest.

“You’re pregnant? We’re really going to have a kid!?”

“Maybe, if you’d _let me down_!”

Despite the bite to your words, you were laughing, and you were hugging him back. How could you doubt him? How could you even have the passing thought that he’d abandon you? He’d promised you, forever and ever, that no matter how bad it was, no matter how hard it got…

He’d always be with you.

\---

You woke to a fit of kicks, as if your unborn daughter was already chastising you for having the audacity to want to sleep in. You groaned, placing both splayed palms to your stomach. Tiny bounces of feet and fists jerked from underneath the skin, responding to your touch. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that everything was all right. That Tooru was lying next to you, ready to give you a flurry of wake-up kisses. He’d always been the romantic. The breakfast-in-bed, white-dress, red bouquet, gold ring type of guy.

But the bed was empty.

You heard noises in the kitchen. They startled you, since you’d been living on your own for so long, but you remembered that Iwaizumi was also over. It took you a while to roll yourself out of bed. Even then, you merely sat. You wanted nothing more than to lie in a state of depressed agony, but you had somebody else to live for, and that meant you had to keep yourself moving forwards. So, you got dressed painstakingly slowly, and hovered at the door. You strained to listen, hoping to catch Iwaizumi’s lower tones to find security. You winced as your hand touched the doorknob. You were so afraid of facing your lover that you were creeping around doors, eavesdropping.

“…and…”

“…well…?”

There were two sets of voices to join the light clamouring of dishware. Still, the fact that Iwaizumi would be there in the room with Tooru made you feel somewhat better, though the guilt soon outweighed the relief. You opened the door slowly, shutting it as quietly as you could, and tiptoed to the kitchen. 

The two men were both leaning on the island counter, talking over coffee. For some reason, Tooru’s fake glasses were on, giving him a strikingly different look from how you remembered him in the institute—as a patient, rather than a doctor. The restored air of confidence was a bit jarring, if not oddly familiar, like the same clothes on a different body. Both sets of eyes turned to face you as you peeped around the corner.

“Hey! It’s about time you got your ass out of bed. Oikawa made you a decaf latte.” Iwaizumi slid a mug over the counter, and you looked down at the milk froth on top, seeing cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top. Tooru gave you a bit of an awkward smile.

“As thanks for taking care of me and all,” he said quickly, looking as if he needed to justify his actions.

You nodded your thanks, also feeling too awkward to reply. You busied yourself by taking a sip, hiding your face behind the mug. Iwaizumi’s dark eyes were hot on you, and you could almost feel him looking from you to Tooru. His presence alone was almost loud enough to be heard in the tense silence. 

“So. I’m going to be in the city to run a few errands. You two should take a walk around the block, maybe. Get some sunshine.”

“Wait,” Oikawa began, expressing your panic verbally. “Hajime, do you really think that’s a good idea—?”

“I’ll be back in a few!” Iwaizumi yelled, not even bothering to listen to your panicked mewl. The door slammed shut behind him and In-chan yipped, his subdued barks the only thing filling the awkward silence between you and Tooru. The man was grimacing, and you wondered if you were, too.

“U-um… maybe he’s right. Walking the dog would be good. We don’t have to go very far. And my eldest sister said that exercised helped her a lot during her pregnancy.”

Takeru? The young boy’s face flashed to mind instantly. He was probably talking about Takeru, the both of yours’ nephew. His sister often came into town, bringing Takeru along, and it took no effort at all to see how much joy Takeru brought Tooru. Tooru didn’t even need a son of his own; the way he treated kids made it seem like he radiated goodness. 

Feeling like it’d be rude to disagree with him, you gave him another short nod, putting down the coffee. You thanked him again for it to be painfully polite, and he looked surprised.

“Was it that good?”

A small shrug. A tiny half-nod.

“I’m glad. I didn’t really have a recipe… I just kinda winged it.”

Cinnamon on top of frothed milk; it was always how you had always made your coffee in the morning. The hospital brews were trash, so you’d always tried to spice things up wherever you could. When the baby came, it was how you always had your decafs. So even if he didn’t or couldn’t remember, his body did. What else did his body remember? Would it remember the touch of you? The touch of his daughter’s kicks?

“What is it?!” he gasped, sounding shocked when you suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He was stiff underneath you, and you could sense his apprehensive terror as you jutted his hand towards you. With a mental apology, you silently ignored his discomfort. Guiding his large hand, you laid it across your stomach, not daring to look at him. You stared at the ground furiously, listening hard for his reaction. 

“…oh. It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

You inhaled sharply and nodded slowly, as if being too eager would ruin the moment. You snuck a glance to his face. It was softened; gentle; the way he’d looked before. Was this it? Was this the trigger point? Was this when he’d be Tooru again?

“She feels like a fighter,” he laughed. “She must give you hell.”

Afraid to speak lest you’d burst out into tears, you nodded again, smiling wryly. He smiled back.

“I’m sure your husband or wife takes good care of you, huh? I’m jealous.”

With a good-natured laugh, he turned away to fetch In-chan’s collar. The feeling of cold he left behind was so jarring that when he was out of sight, you sank to the floor, silent tears running hot trails down your face.

\---

You’d gotten yourself together in time for Tooru to come back, swiping the tears from your face and attributing the sniffling to allergies. The both of you walked a simple path to a nearby park, which wasn’t very busy until the weekend. It wasn’t totally silent, what with vagrant snippets of trivial conversation passed back and forth. You walked stiffly. He looked like Tooru, sounded like Tooru, and felt like Tooru—but you had to remind yourself that the man you walked with was Oikawa, not Tooru. Each time he asked you a question, your heart spasmed. You had to fight yourself to keep yourself from asking him a question of your own.

_Who am **I** , Tooru?_

Cowardice won in the end and you only ever asked him safe, cautious things, like his favourite colour (even though you already knew) or about In-chan (even though you had gone with him to adopt the dog). For a while, you thought it was going okay. Going _well_ was out of the question, but ‘okay’ seemed to be in sight. The both of you unhooked In-chan from his leash and the dog bounded off into the open field, elation channelled through his raised tail as he freed himself from the confines of being at home for so long. Tooru had been quiet for some time, so you asked if he was all right.

“Yes… I’m sorry if this is a strange question, but can I see your ring?”

Ring? You looked down at your left hand instinctively, the diamond band enamouring the simple gold band. Tooru liked the classics, and because you’d taken maternity leave, you didn’t have to keep your rings at home to keep them safe from the hospital. Nervously, you looked at him, wondering what he would want to see them for. Carefully, he lifted your fingers, and you had a sudden flash to when he’d done the same motion to slide the ring onto your hand for the first time.

“…it matches…?”

You didn’t know what he was muttering about. Of course the two rings would match; the engagement ring and wedding band should come in the same set, right? But to your dismay, he dug around in his pocket, and displayed something in the palm. It looked comically small in his large hand, but you could never mistake it; his wedding band.

“You… these rings… who are you?”

Your throat closed. His hand was still under yours, and you felt him trembling, his voice wavering in the air like a delicate willow about to snap in the wind. His grip tightened around you. The pain brought tears to your eyes.

“Who are you? _Answer_ me!”

You flinched as he raised his voice and tried to draw your hand back. He didn’t let go and jerked you towards him. Your right hand immediately flew to your stomach protectively and you flinched away, your heart racing in your ears, panic turning every blood cell into ice. 

“Who are you?!” he screamed now, desperately discordant. The park was empty. You didn’t think anybody could come in time to help you. What if you died here? What if you died here? Worse, what if you died by the hand of your own _lover_ —

Suddenly Tooru let go of you, a swear tumbling out of his mouth. In-chan’s snarls sounded so unlike the sweet dog that you thought a wolf spirit had suddenly appeared, but your beloved dog was butting his head against Tooru, sharp canines fending him away from you. Tooru’s eyes met yours as he backed up from you, and they were so wild… that you wondered for a split second if it’d be better that he’d killed you after all.


	4. [four]

Iwaizumi held your shoulders as you cried. You didn’t know what you were crying for anymore. His sickness? Your child’s future? Yourself? The only certainty was that the pain was excruciating, pressing down on you as if the world wanted to see you break. 

Well, the world got its damn wish. You didn’t know how much lower things could get before you snapped. 

_If you’re going to hit it, hit it ‘till it breaks._

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi muttered distantly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with him…”

The both of you knew that the only fault lay with Tooru, but neither of you said it aloud. There was no grace in accusing a sick man. Still, Iwaizumi was an overwhelmingly good person, and would blame himself for anything. You raised your hand and squeezed his once, still struggling to contain the ugly sobs that kept silencing you whenever you tried to say something. Your baby was asleep somehow, sometimes gently pawing at you as it dreamed. You wondered what it’d be like to have no worries.

After calming down enough to breathe normally, you found yourself to be utterly exhausted. Your eyelids kept drooping, despite your best efforts, and suddenly you had the hope that you would close your eyes and never open them again. What was the point of waking up to a world without Tooru? What was the point of waking up without _him_?

The baby moved and you let out a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. This was the point. She was the reason. If not for yourself, you at least had to live for your child. His child.

“Mrs. Oikawa?”

You jerked into alertness suddenly, having nodded off halfway through your thoughts. Iwaizumi stood with you, supporting you as you reached forwards to shake the stranger’s hand. The old man had a grim face and you felt yourself clinging to his warm, rough palm, afraid to let go. Letting go meant that it was time to hear what he had to say.

“I’ve got some news for you. Would you like to sit?”

You wanted to say no, but knew that you had no choice. You collapsed back into your seat and the doctor sat next to you as Iwaizumi stood watch, keeping a hand on your shoulder. He’d tried to leave to give you privacy, but you’d clung to his sleeve. You’d already lost Tooru. You needed _somebody_ to hold you up, even if he were just a friend. He had to be the stand-in for the one you really loved.

“I’ll start with the bad news.” He cleared his throat almost awkwardly, drawing in a deep breath. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the doctor. Who could enjoy their life when all they could do was deliver bad news to heartbroken wives?

“Dr—well, _Mr._ Oikawa’s brain is deteriorating. The Alzheimer’s is a more aggressive case than we’ve ever seen.”

You inhaled shakily. Still, despite the gravity of his words, you didn’t feel that affected. Maybe you’d just been so battered and bruised that another blow didn’t even hurt anymore. The doctor was still sitting in front of you, however, his lips twitching oddly. You stared numbly, unsure of why he was making such an odd face after telling you that your husband would probably die soon. Why was he… 

Smiling?

“The other news,” the doctor said, positively beaming, even after he’d only just sealed Tooru’s death sentence. 

“He’s lucid.”

You kept staring. You almost laughed at him. Tooru, _lucid_? He’d been diagnosed for little over half a damn year and only now did they say that he was ‘deteriorating’. There was no room for any ‘good news’ in your life. There wasn’t even space for ‘hope’, what with his illness looming over you like a dark fog cloud. 

But the doctor kept nodding, seeming to notice your skepticism. 

“He’s asking for his wife. [Name] Oikawa, yes? I think it’s safe for you to see him. And, you should, because you might not have another opportunity like this.”

“[Name], this is great news!” Iwaizumi blurted out, unable to contain his excitement anymore. He crouched and gripped both of your hands, his smile radiant, his green eyes glowing with energy as he beamed up at you. “He remembered you! He’s actually lucid!”

As you had been when faced with the bad set of news, you said nothing. You merely stared. Remembered you? _You_ , or a corrupted memory of you? For how long? Why? There were too many questions. There were too little answers. Suddenly, you felt very scared, and suddenly, you didn’t know if you could face him. Your hands were clutched into tight fists, your wedding rings digging painfully into your skin. He had given them to you. He had also nearly killed you because of them. 

Concerned with your silence, Iwaizumi’s hands twitched around yours. “[Name]? …you _are_ happy, right?”

Distantly, you nodded. You didn’t know. You weren’t upset by this, but were you happy about it? What did happiness feel like? Taste like? You couldn’t remember. You stared down at your lap, not wanting to even meet Iwaizumi’s eyes. You felt so ashamed of yourself, but despite your efforts, you couldn’t find the same excitement. The Alzheimer’s disease was still unmapped—lucidity came and went with no real explanation. Yet, for some reason, you felt as if his lucidity was some sort of compensation for one thing. An apology from the sadistic, evil world for what was to come.

His imminent death.

Slowly, you stood. You wobbled on your feet, looking at the doctor expressionlessly.

In sickness and in health; ‘till death do us part. 

If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.

If you were to be parting with him so soon… you wanted to at least be able to say goodbye to the man you so dearly loved.

\---

The room was totally white and sterile, unlike the more ambient room he’d had in the home. You walked in nervously, your legs quivering and threatening to give out entirely. You almost lost your nerve and turned to run back out, but Iwaizumi led you by the arm, his grip firm.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked cautiously, when you were silent. You kept staring at the floor tiles. Iwaizumi continued, his every tone measured, 

“Who’s this?” 

A nurse noticed what was going on. She dropped the clipboard hurriedly. You watched her white shoes as she scurried around you, slipping out the door. The three musketeers, alone once again. 

“What are you talking about?” Tooru replied snappishly, traces of his former anger not quite gone yet. You couldn’t help but flinch.

“That’s [Name],” Tooru continued, and you felt your heart stop and your blood cool.

Your name. Your name. _Your_ name. Was that even your name? You hadn’t heard it in so long that you worried that it wasn’t, that Tooru was calling for some other girl. But it was you.

You about collapsed when you heard your name in his mouth. Iwaizumi held you up, walking you over. Finally, you mustered the courage to look at him. Tooru’s gaze was soft on you, like it had been before. Warm, and familiar. So warm. That recognition was so warm.

“[Name], what do you look so worried for?” he asked, after Iwaizumi set you down into a chair. He put on a light tone, obviously hiding concern behind his smile-lined eyes. Iwaizumi stood by your side, arms crossed, obviously not wanting to leave after the last incident. Tooru ignored him entirely, his focus on you. He was focused… on _you_. It was real. He remembered you.

So why did you still feel so much despair?

“They tell you what’s wrong with you?” Iwaizumi blurted out, when you were silent still. Tooru scowled, not wanting to be interrupted, but looked to his friend.

“No. They said I had lost some of my memories, so I just assumed I was in some sort of car crash—” His head suddenly whipped to you. “You weren’t there, right?! You and the baby are okay?”

You looked down instinctively, your swollen belly still just as it had been a few moments ago. Weakly, you nodded, and Tooru sighed a breath of relief.

“Good.”

“ _Not_ good!” Iwaizumi barked, evidently having lost his patience. “Do you know how much you’ve hurt your goddamn wife? You have _Alzheimer’s_ , remember? You can’t even _begin_ to apologize for what you’ve done to her!”

You winced, suddenly feeling that you were in a spotlight you hadn’t volunteered for. The room went quiet again as Tooru stared. You hated the feeling of his horrified gaze on you. 

“I have Alzheimer’s?” he breathed. Your face burned with shame. Iwaizumi sighed, drawing up another chair. He nodded grimly.

“Early onset. Aggressive case.”

“I… I don’t remember that.” His brow furrowed. You’d heard him say that often, but never so anguished. It had always been so carefree: _I don’t remember if I ate or not; I don’t remember where I am; I don’t remember who you are._ He’d never sounded so upset by his inability to remember, before. Something had changed. For better, or for worse? Was he better off not knowing? Or were you better off knowing that he was hurting, just like you were?

His large brown eyes turned to you. “I remember getting the ultrasound for our daughter.”

“That was eight months ago,” Iwaizumi supplied from your side. Tooru’s eyes flashed with panic.

“I’ve lost _eight_ months of my memory?! What the hell happened to me?” 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Iwaizumi pressed. “You’re lucid now, but you weren’t for eight whole months. The doctor told us that he doesn’t know how long you’ll even _have_ your memories for, so we need to talk about what to do. Now.”

“Shut up for a minute, Hajime!” Tooru shouted. Iwaizumi, surprised, obeyed. You flinched and shut your eyes tight, afraid to see his expression—afraid to see that hellhound that had been present just a few hours ago. You choked on a scream when a hand fell over yours gently. When you opened your eyes again, it was Tooru, his expression pained.

No, this should never have happened. He would have been better off forgetting you… even if it hurt you, at least you wouldn’t have to see that agony in his eyes. Your agony mirrored so clearly in his. 

“It _does_ matter,” he choked out. “[Name], is he right? Did I really forget about you and our kid…?”

You didn’t want to nod. You didn’t want him to feel blamed, or hated. But you didn’t want to lie. So you sucked in a sharp breath and nodded wordlessly. His eyes shut tight, but not before you saw a well of shiny tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the hand clamping tightly around yours. “I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry… I can’t… I’m so sorry, [Name]. I love you.” He re-opened his eyes, fat tears rolling down his cheeks freely. He gasped for breath through his sobs, the vulnerability so unfamiliar to you that for a second, it felt like you were the one who couldn’t recognize him. “I love you. Please don’t forget that, even if I forget you—I love you so much, okay? So please… say something. Anything. Even tell me that you hate me, I just need to hear you say… anything.”

You couldn’t. You merely watched him sob for forgiveness, clutching at you. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi prompted gently as Tooru cried on you. Tooru didn’t look to him, but blinked to show that he was listening. Tooru’s eyes were endlessly full of sorrow, and Iwaizumi sounded so faraway. All you could feel or hear was Tooru. It was as if you and Tooru had been locked up together in an alternate dimension. His hand was still warm over yours.

“There’s a lab trial. They say it could stimulate affected brain cells and reduce symptoms. But you need to act fast if you want a chance at getting in.”

He kept looking at you. You kept looking at him. Iwaizumi was a mere outsider right now. Yours and his world’s. This child’s world. Would he still be here if you blinked? Would he be here tomorrow, or the day after that? What if he left you in this little world, where everybody else was an outsider, and you were totally alone?

“Could it cure me?” Tooru asked, not once looking away from you.

“We don’t know. It might help, or it might…” Iwaizumi groaned, before taking a slow, deep breath, the way he always did before he bit the bullet. “It might kill you. It’s your choice, man.”

“It’s not mine,” he snarled, before his tone softened again. His hands on you were still gentle. Slowly, he tightened his grip on yours. “It’s hers. [Name]?”

You chewed on your lip, having been afraid of this responsibility. But you’d expected it. That was the kind of man he was. He was rash, and insensitive at times, but he knew when to lower his head and admit defeat. Was this it? The white flag?

Your other hand drifted to your abdomen, touching the soft surface as the child inside kicked curiously. She was waking up; you could tell. You closed your eyes. The world became yours alone as you thought.

These were your options.

You had the chance to see him well. You had the chance to look down and see him, pale, face up in a coffin at his own funeral. His hand twitched over yours. You had the chance to hear him say ‘good night, I love you’ again. You had the chance to never hear his voice again. Your child had the chance to grow up with a father. Your child had the chance to never meet his eyes.

This thinking felt like it was all too futile, anyways. Iwaizumi had already had you sign the forms, in case Tooru never became lucid. What with him out of his mind and unable to make breakfast, much less sign important documents, you were his next-of-kin. You were the person that’d people would turn to, asking whether he should live or die. Your signature had never been more careful than when you’d written your name on that thin black line. 

All it took was a nod or the shake of the head to decide Tooru Oikawa’s fate.

You knew him well enough to know what he wanted you to say. His hand closed around yours and finally, you squeezed it back. You heard his gasp of breath in your shared little world. His tears fell like raindrops on the back of your wrist, and yours joined in, a torrential rainstorm of apologetic love. Real love.

The room was quiet. Finally, you looked up, meeting his eyes. You didn’t need to hear him say it to know.

Curtly, you nodded once.


	5. [five]

It seemed like no time at all had passed. Where the time between his diagnosis and his deterioration felt like eternity, he had been whisked away from you yet again—in the blink of an eye. You found yourself even more alone than you had been before, and you had never thought that to be possible.

You weren’t even allowed to see him before he was gone. All you could do was give him a sorrowful look as he was shipped out to a private, secure facility in metropolitan Tokyo. The address was unknown. You felt like you’d shipped him off to a death camp, for all you knew. He’d assured you that things would be better the next time he saw you. He’d kissed you fervently, as if that’d make up for all the ones you’d missed. And then he was gone. 

You hadn’t even said goodbye. 

Would things really be better? What if he never saw you again, and you only saw him six feet under? 

It was too much to think about. It was all too _hard_. Did you deserve this? Had you done something wrong in the eyes of God? Why _him_ —no, why not _you_? Some nights you would think on what it’d be like if you were the one with blank, empty eyes, smiling at other nurses and flirting with death. Would it be easier for you? For this child? Could you even think to hurt him in that selfish way?

All you had was a memory of him. That was all you had before, too, so nothing much had changed. The good memories were the ones you used to keep yourself afloat. The bad ones—you kept them too, tearstained as they were—because they were still memories of him. The good parts of him fit with the bad; the light always overcame the dark. You had to love the whole person in order to love him. 

That you did. And that was your greatest downfall. 

You were drawn to the shiniest, happiest memories of him as crows are to diamonds. As rats to trash. Of course you were; the brain loves happiness, your own craving it even more what with your starvation of it. You had an empirical mind. You knew that happiness was merely a concoction of chemicals, flooding hungry neurons in the brain. You knew that you were only what your cells defined yourself to be. But you also knew that Tooru had made life feel like it was so much more. 

Wedding day. He’d cried, his tears looking striking against his face as he grinned down to you. The champagne had been such a delicate tone of gold, each bubble like a pearl in the deep. Your dress had billowed behind you, trailing white satin ribbons against the deep blue sky, overtaking the clouds themselves. Each step on the dance floor was memorized, echoing notes to a song that only you and he could hear. It was a silent song that the both of you had written together. The flush on his drunken face as he lifted you in the air. The way he smelt with his face buried against your skin… the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

The day you met. His cheesy grin was perfectly symmetrical, each hair strand styled perfectly into place. _Pretentious prick._ His face had fallen after you’d rejected him, a second of stunned surprise defining his existence in that moment. He’d chased after you. You remembered the beat his shoes had made with the floor as he ran after you, his coat billowing in the air behind him like your dress would several years later.

The day you’d fallen in love with him. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled. It was the most mundane of days; something like a Tuesday workday. Nothing had happened. He was turning to leave, off to work on a late shift. You’d risen up from bed, dizzy and full to the brim with delirium. You’d blurted out ‘I love you’, and he’d stopped, staring. His turn had been slow and dramatic. You saw his wide brown eyes morph from confusion to ecstasy, awe etched into each fleck. The smile bloomed across his face like a huge lily as he said excitedly, ‘I love you too.’ His cadence; his tone; you memorized it all. You didn’t think that you’d know it so well at the time, but now, you could hear him in your head, shouting over and over: _I love you, [Name], I love you!_

His touch. His rough, sports weathered hands that were like soft, worn leather. His touch on your hand; on your jaw; on your thigh. How he could hold you in the palm of his hands, cupping you close to his heart so that you could feel his warmth.

His smile. Every square centimetre. Every stupid grin. Every fake smile. Every genuine face of disgust, anger, fear, adoration. The smile of wonder when you’d told him that he was going to be a father.

The rage that would etch itself into his deep eyes. The sharp, acrid edge to his voice when he yelled; the way his fingers would tremble when he was boiling with fury. 

The way his fingers would tremble when he came hard, clutching you close; the vulnerability and softness that was so different from the detached surgeon who would stately call time of death.

Had he really changed so much? Had you? When his neurons died and withered away, what would be left? What is a man without his brain—what is a man without thought or will? Was the person that came out of it the real him? Or was the one you remembered the real Tooru Oikawa?

It doesn’t matter. Things change, whether or not you want them to. Mountains erode into grasslands and oceans rise up to become peaks.

Things were going wrong, fast.

Days were flying by. Iwaizumi left; he had to go. He had his own family. He couldn’t meddle around in your troubles for long, and you knew this, but you were left so utterly _alone_. You sat and stared out the window, unable to do much more than wait for something that might never come. It had been a world with you and him, walls built on mutual love. It had been so bright with him. You were now alone in it. You were the only one you had to lean on.

And you were due.

You had tried to fight it. You were many things, and you lacked many things, but you were not a quitter. You fought as hard as you could, but in the end, you lost. Your doctor shook her head.

“You need to have this baby now, or it’ll die.”

Simple as that. 

Time was manipulative, running too slow or too fast. It was too slow when you had to watch him grow sick. It was all going too fast when you needed things to slow down. It liked to watch you suffer. It liked to watch you bleed.

They wheeled you into an operating room, the bright lights above blinding you like Heaven’s gates. The pain was raw and you felt your eyelashes flutter, each trip into the darkness submerging you so deep that you could only wonder if you’d surface each time. Somebody was yelling at you to push. You ignored them, desperately hoping that something would change in the next five seconds. After all, it only felt like five seconds had passed since you’d last seen Tooru.

You could barely remember his face. 

Was that ironic?

You were a fighter. If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.

Until death do we part.

Four seconds remaining.

\---

“You’re in good shape, Mr. Oikawa.”

His leg was bouncing. When he saw that it was, he stopped—you had hated this nervous tick of his, always groaning about how it messed up your rhythm, even though he could barely feel it himself. His heart skipped a beat. He’d remembered that so easily. Looking up, he smiled wearily at the doctor.

“Thanks. I’m glad.”

“You’ve been enlisted here as a patient for… one month?”

“About that time, yeah.”

“And you’ve been doing the daily treatments…”

He wanted to scream, _if you already know, why are you asking me?!_ But he held his breath. There was no way in Hell he could afford to offend one of the people here, especially since they were saving his memory and his damn life. He had to do it for you. For his _kid_. If that meant biting his tongue, then he’d do it. He’d do anything.

“Very nice improvement. High functionality… you haven’t been hearing voices anymore?”

“No,” he replied, a bit impatiently, but truthfully. The schizophrenia had only really come in during the third month of his deterioration stage. Even if he did hear them, he probably would’ve lied, if it’d get him out of here sooner. It was your third trimester and you were already nine months in. He hadn’t seen you since last month. He wasn’t allowed to correspond with you, either. 

You could’ve died and he’d never know. 

The thought constricted his heart and he had to force himself to breathe, almost missing the next question as he struggled to forget the idea. His hands trembled in tight fists.

“What’s the date?” the doctor asked. Instinctively, he reached for his phone to check, but of course, that had been confiscated. He tried to remember, but the hospital was as white and timeless as the floors of Heaven might’ve been. Thinking back did him no good. 

“You haven’t told me it. I can’t tell you if I don’t even know,” he replied, exasperatedly, but also fearfully. _Had_ they told him the date? Had he forgotten, like he’d just forgotten you for eight whole months? He held his breath. 

The doctor blinked. Each ticking millisecond was passing judgement. Finally, the ugly old man smiled wryly, his fat chins rolling inwards as he nodded.

“Quite right. My apologies. So, Mr. Oikawa: could you please you repeat the words and numbers I told you at the beginning of the session—in order?”

“Baby, monkey, candle, apple, blanket… four, six, three, eight, one,” he listed, rapidly, surprised with himself for being able to recall them so easily. His head shot up with realization. “Does this mean I can go!?”

“Er, ‘go’ is a bit… generalized. You will still need to undergo treatment—”

“My _wife_ is pregnant with our child,” he blurted out, unable to remain still. He leant forwards in his seat, his tone raw with agony. “I haven’t been there for her. I’m not there for her now. She needs me. It’s the least I can do. Please, I just need to see her.”

The doctor sighed. “It would be a breach of security—”

“It’s all I ask. You have to understand. You have to know what it’s like to love somebody, right? I love her. So I need…” His foot stopped bouncing and he balled his fists up resolutely, taking a deep breath. “I _will_ be seeing her.”

The man sighed again, the air seeming to ripple his lips.

“You’re quite persuasive, Mr. Oikawa. No matter. We assumed that you’d want to see her, so we already cleared you to exit the facility. But I think that you should know…” He took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes wearily. 

“Your wife is in ICU. There were, er… ‘severe’ complications with the C-section. Or so I’ve heard.”

Oikawa leant back slowly. His foot began to bounce again.

\---

Things were foggy. You swore you felt something licking at your toes—In-chan, maybe—and peered down. But there was nothing there. Not even your legs. Nothing existed. It was easy to figure out.

This wasn’t real life. 

You wondered why you weren’t more afraid of that. Why couldn’t you feel anything? You had been in so much pain just now, but it had all numbed away. They’d probably drugged you up. Logically, yours and your child’s life was in these people’s hands, so they’d probably performed an emergency C-section on you against your will. You didn’t blame them. You couldn’t only hope that your daughter had made it out well. Maybe you were only half-conscious in a deep dream state, induced by drugs and shock. That all made sense to you, but you still had the feeling that you were drifting. 

Were you dying?

You still didn’t feel afraid, even after the thought. You only felt calm. This was the first time in a long time that you hadn’t felt any pain, and it was… liberating. This alternate world was a place where you were nothing but scattered thoughts. There were no worries and no future—there wasn’t anything at all. 

This was wrong. You had to wake up, and you knew that. But waking up meant that you had to open your eyes and find out the truth—you had to wake up and face _everything_. It might’ve been wrong for you to want to stay in this cloud of nothing, but it was so much easier, and so much safer. Death might be easier. It would be easy to let go and be nothing.

But life was meant to be hard. 

You tried to remember what he looked like—tried to remember his smile—tried to remember his everything about him. It didn’t matter if it hurt, or if taking the easy way out might ease the pain. You had bigger things to live for. Your daughter. You had to see what she would grow into, or who they might become in the future days of tomorrow. Even if you lost him, and had to feel that pain, you had to fight through it. Even if you were left alone in that world, you had to see it through to the end. You weren’t a quitter.

Three more seconds.

\---

“You should prepare yourself for the worst outcome,” the nurse said gently. He merely laughed, his knee bouncing as he sat in the waiting room. The joyful behaviour was so bizarre that the nurse forgot herself entirely, staring at him.

“Sir?” she asked, understandably concerned, “are you…?”

“This isn’t how it works,” he said shakily, between giggles as he wiped tears from his eyes. He kept staring at the floor, muttering to himself. “Things don’t get to get _worse_. Things get bad, but it doesn’t keep _happening_. Right? You don’t get sick, make the one you love watch you waste away, and then… and th-then have your wife _die_! Don’t you get that? That doesn’t happen. It just… can’t…” He sighed, the breath sounding like his last.

“W-well… your daughter. She’s healthy.”

“What?” he whispered weakly, not having heard clearly. His head was still spinning at the mere thought of losing you. He remembered the horrible thought he’d had in the clinic—you dying, and him not knowing—and felt sick. He could barely remember what it was like to hold you, and if he never got to again…? 

And what about him? What if the medicine stopped working? What was he going to do if he couldn’t take care of his own daughter? What if she grew up one her own, like he’d left you all alone?

Oikawa breathed hard, trying his best to block out the thought. He couldn’t think about that. If he did, he’d break. He’d just have to… pretend. He’d just have to pretend that things were fine.

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, and Oikawa threw all of his attention to the nurse, hoping that he could distract himself.

“Do you want to see her?” she asked uneasily.

He said nothing, but stood. The nurse led him into a room and he followed blankly, still thinking about what he would do if the nurse turned around to tell him that the ‘worst outcome’ had come. The darkness was deep and he suddenly realized that the nurse was waving a hand in front of his eyes, her calling of his name having no effect.

“Sorry, what?”

“Your daughter?” She was holding a pink bundle. He looked down at himself, not remembering when he’d put on the light blue hygienic gown. “Not remembering”—what a joke. 

He looked up to the nurse and stared with detached disbelief. That was it. That was his kid. Your kid. The bundle moved and he realized that things were still happening, and he reached out, trembling. The nurse carefully set the infant in his arms, the weight almost non-existent. He was afraid to look down, but after taking a deep breath, he forced himself to.

She was wrinkly and tinier beyond belief. Her mouth was pouty in a way that yours got whenever he annoyed you, and for a moment, he saw your face in hers. Wisps of light brown hair were paired with gigantic, dark eyes. The lights above gleamed in her eyes like stars in a night sky. She squirmed, a fist poking out through the blankets. It waved in the air defiantly as she gurgled. His heart seemed to stop. He felt as if he was staring down at you on the altar, ready to confess his love for you for the rest of time. “Until death do us part,” he had vowed.

“Hi,” he breathed gently. The pain and fears hadn’t left, but he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of love. Tears welled in his eyes. “Hey there. I’m your dad. Hey, there…”

He closed his eyes, his head bent forwards as his tears splashed the tiny cap. He clutched his daughter as gently but as tightly as he could, fully aware that he looked like an idiot, standing alone and crying with a baby in his arms. He didn’t like to ask for favours, but he would’ve paid anything—even his life—to have his daughter hear the words:

_Hi. I’m your mom._

“Please,” he whispered, even going so far as to look up to the ceiling. He wasn’t a religious man, but right now, he had to be. The tears rolled down his face. “I don’t ask for much, but _please_.”

It hurt. Living hurt—having things thrown at him like this, one after another, _hurt_. It wasn’t fair. It’d be so much easier to have it all stop. But he felt a tug on his shirt and looked down, his daughter’s hand curled around his shirt collar. Miniature lips curved upwards into a smile. She didn’t know. And she wouldn’t know what it felt like to hurt this much, because Oikawa was going to do everything he could to stop that from happening. This was his life. The only legacy that mattered. He held the infant close to his chest, closing his eyes slowly.

Things can change in a second. Would they for the better?

Two seconds left.

\---

Your eyes opened slowly. It was blurry and much too bright, and you were suddenly assaulted with a wave of nausea and vertigo. Your breathy was raspy, and you heard distant beeps. The hospital. So you’d made it through alive, after all. Were you a bit disappointed in that? Maybe, but this was the hand that you’d been dealt. It was up to you to reshuffle the cards.

You made to get up before a shock of searing pain split you down the middle. Your abdomen felt as if it’s been shredded up and you nearly threw up on yourself, hot tears spilling over your eyes as you gasped hard for painful breaths. You reached out dizzily, your hand knocking against the bed’s fence. You looked around, trying to catch your eyes on a nurse to help you up. Your heart seemed to stop.

You could scarcely believe what you were seeing. He was just… sitting there. Like nothing had gone wrong. He was playing with something, his fingers dangling in the air. Despite the fact that your mind was scattered in so many different directions, you felt like you could hear his breathing, even and steady. 

Just as you’d remembered it.

You made a noise, a desperate groan. He looked up, startled, and his brown eyes widened with recognition as he saw you. He slowly got up out of his chair, walking to you. He was still carrying the bundle in his arms, but you could scarcely see that, staring into his eyes. You saw yourself reflected in them. You saw that he knew you.

He remembered you.

The bundle looked to grow heavier and heavier with each passing breath, and Tooru—gentle, loving Tooru—looked to you as you looked at him. He peered down, reaching out with shaky fingers to brush a lock of hair off your forehead. You whimpered when he touched you.

“[Name]?” he whispered. “You’re awake?”

If nothing good had come out of this, you would’ve at least been able to say that you had hardened considerably, in a way that you were able to steel yourself from crying just yet. Your mind was still spinning, but you grit your teeth and made to sat up, ignoring the burning pain of your stitches as you looked him in the eye. You reached out and gripped his arm, clutching it tightly. This was the final second of your life that would define you. This was when you’d make or break it.

One second left.

“What did we name her, Tooru?” you rasped. You coughed, each one bringing you a step closer to death, but you squinted through your tears at him. “Do you remember… what we named our daughter?”

It was accusatory. It was misplaced blame and it was all the pain and suffering you’d dealt with. It was you and he in this world; but now, there was another. 

Your voice trembled weakly but your words carried. If he couldn’t answer this, everything’d be for naught. He looked down at her, and then to you. His eyes were still foggy with the missing time, but he saw you. He saw _you_ , and you saw him. The real him. The one you loved. The one that loved you.

A second passed before he said, very clearly,

“How could I forget?”

\---

“She’s still really upset… I put her to bed, but I’m pretty sure that she’s still crying.”

“Yeah,” you sighed back, curling up to him as he sat next to you heavily. “I am too. I’m really going to miss him.”

“Me too. But it was his time. He’s given us a lot of good memories.”

“That’s just how death is,” you replied sadly. “It just happens.”

In-chan was already pushing it with his age, but the poor dog had contracted a terminal cancer at the final stretch of his years. You hadn’t wanted to tell your daughter, but Tooru had forged right ahead, explaining how carcinogenic tumours worked, and how malignant ones were different from benign ones. The daughter of two medical professionals had loved to listen, but even you could tell that she didn’t want to know exactly how the beloved family dog was dying. But Tooru sat her down and explained it coldly across the dinner table, despite your protests. You understood why, of course—soon, it might be him that was being buried instead of the dog.

Still, you liked to hope that that wouldn’t be happening until much later.

“I hate to say it, but… we’re going to need to teach her about the concept of death and dealing with it.” His hand clutched yours, the silver ring digging into your palm. “You know. It’s easier later if you get it earlier in life.”

“I disagree,” you mumbled, turning to look back at Tooru. “It never gets easier.”

“…you’re right.” He looked off, towards the pile of pillows where In-chan had always laid down to chew on his squeaky toys. “Man, I miss the little guy…”

You sighed again, turning back so that you could reach up and kiss him on the cheek. He caught your head as you leant away, his hand warm across your jaw. You smiled wearily.

“When our time comes… we just need to be sure that she can be able to move forwards without us.”

“Yeah,” he replied, hoarsely. He nodded to himself sombrely, deep brown eyes downcast. You rested your head against his chest again, comforted by his presence. The world had gotten a little smaller without In-chan, but at least you had him and your daughter in it.

“I love you,” he murmured abruptly, his lips suddenly touching the top of your head. You smiled, not facing him, but knowing that he knew all the same.

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t forget that,” he whispered, barely audible—and yet, you heard. You nodded distantly, closing your eyes. The world was dark, but you still felt his warmth, encircling you. The ring on your hand was warm as his hand twitched around yours.

“I’ll still love you. Don’t forget.”

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/JTY3Kh

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ほしい](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282301) by [deltachye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye)




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